Getting Away with Murder
by PseudonymousEntity
Summary: When thirteen-year-old Harry Potter runs away from home, Sirius Black is there to offer him another one. Of course...in this family everything comes at a price.
1. Wine, Bruises and Cousins

PSEU

* * *

 **~~* Getting Away with Murder *~~**

 **BY**

 **Pseudonymous Entity**

* * *

 **Summary:** What do you think would change if Harry met Black a little sooner? If Black was more focused on Harry and keeping him safe? A lot of things apparently.

 **Characters:** Harry Potter, Sirius Black, [the Black family], more later on

 **Warnings:** Purebloods. Violence. Plotting. **[Am I alone in viewing Purebloods as a warning? It certainly ought to be one.]**

 **Comments, Questions, Guesses, Conspiracy Theories?** Put them in your review. I do my best to reply!

 **AN: I am in a rewrite sort of mood I suppose. [16/09/02]**

 **ANx2:** And do keep up the theories guys I love seeing inside your minds. Please feel free to make guesses and  ask questions. I try to find the time to reply to you guys as often as I can and I enjoy interacting with my readers. I do, by the way, have the best fans ever. **-Pseu**

 **Ever Yours, Pseu** [ **Master of Awesome** ] And ridiculously good-looking too.

* * *

 _"...I can't go back, the ashes call my name_

 _Pouting the fuel, fanning the flames, breaking the habit and melting the chains_

 _Embracing the fear, chasing the fight, the glow of the fire will light up the night_

 _The bridges are burning, the heat's on my face, making the past an unreachable place_

 _Pouring the fuel, fanning the flames -_ _I know_

 _This is the point of no return..."_

-Point of No Return

* * *

 **30 JULY 1993 - 0930 Hrs (9:30am)**

 **4 PRIVET DRIVE - SURREY - DURSLEY RESIDENCE**

Harry Potter once thought he would never see a day where he was grateful to be weeding in the garden. Last summer he would have given anything to be let out of his room including weeding. This summer while he had not been locked up he was outside and grateful to be weeding, going as slowly and meticulously as he felt he might get away with.

This summer the Dursley home was invaded. Dudley - Harry's much larger cousin and thank the gods only offspring of Vernon and Petunia Dursley- was gifted a new gaming system for his birthday. Consequently one couldn't go anywhere within the house without risking hearing loss from the booms and crashes and pews pews emitting out of the telly. Harry couldn't remember the last time there was an actual television show on or even the news. In the end it didn't much matter as he wasn't allowed to watch the tv anyway let alone play on the system. He did get the thrill of setting it up for Dudley and then listening to it nearly all day.

You see, Harry was responsible for all of the chores at this particular house on this particular street. Outside looking in it was no different than every other house. Same colour, same size lawn, same sort of car in the drive way. If the grass was always just a bit greener during the summer, if the flowers' blooms just a big larger and brighter...well...it certainly had nothing to do with the dark haired youth tending to the gardens. And the dishes. And the mopping and the dusting and the cooking and serving of food.

Harry did his best to complete any chores that required him to be inside the house as quickly as possible. Sometimes this meant getting up earlier than normal or staying up later to get things done. Honestly -somewhere far in the back of his mind where he was still somewhat an optimist- Harry knew if he had been invited to take part in the video gaming experience he may have weathered the situation with more grace. Or a lot more of it. As it was his cousin took every opportunity to rub it in Harry's face that not only did Dudley receive a gaming console and harry did not, he made certain the younger boy knew he would never get one. Not one from a relative at least nor one from his friends for that matter.

Generally speaking electric gadgets did tend to function properly where his sort of friends were from. Coincidentally the same place Harry spent most of the year. Also known as time spent not being an unpaid servant tipped with threats of bodily harm and insulting comments. At school he got to learn how to brew poisons while Snape snarked -never knew when that might come in handy- and then destroy the man's house team at Quidditch. The wizarding sport.

Harry's a wizard by the way. Huzzah.

* * *

 **30 JULY 1993 - 1745 Hrs (5:45pm)**

 **4 PRIVET DRIVE - SURREY - DURSLEY RESIDENCE**

"Are the fillets ready? Harry! She'll be here any minute."

Harry Potter, twelve year old wizard, defeater of Dark Lords, possessed defense instructors, trolls and basilisks, nodded while straightening his very manly and dangerous apron in the Dursley's kitchen. His aunt stood nearby making one sided conversation while periodically peeking around the corner and down the hall. Where the front door was located. While this was uncommon behavior it was not unexpected. Vernon's sister Marge was coming to stay for the week. Petunia like her nearly as much as Harry did himself. Which was not at all.

"Which wine...which wine..." The skinny woman pawed through her cabinets, long neck stretched out to peer along the top most shelf. Not the safest place to store wine really. Harry thought she assumed Harry wouldn't ever be able to get any of it, had he one day the mad urge to risk the death that would assuredly come to him from such an action, seeing as he was rather short for his age and was not able to reach all of the shelves within the cabinet even with the aid of a stool or chair. The only reason she herself was selecting a bottle and not Harry.

It was well known by the both of them that if they succeeded in getting Marge intoxicated as quickly as possible the large woman would pass out shortly afterward. With the small side effect of making her even more loathsome for the duration of the conscious portion of her intoxication. There was no love lost between Harry and his Aunt Petunia but you've probably heard the saying one's enemy of one's enemy is one's temporary ally as convenience allows. Or something to that effect.

Thus the arrival of more hailed the short and shaky alliance between the two of them. Harry did not want to hear say horrid things about his parents or himself. Petunia didn't want her dog running amok and her cigar ash on the carpets any longer than necessary. If they had to trick her into blacking out from too much alcohol to get a reprieve there was certainly no one there to call them out on it. Vernon and Dudley were quite obvious and anyone else would be ignored as they didn't live there and wouldn't much matter. Harry thought feeling guilty about such actions was pointless. He much preferred feeling accomplished and somewhat devious. This was the only time of year he was allowed to be less than perfectly noble and he relished in it.

Harry arranged the meal on the table, cleaning as he went along, the sound of Dudley's dratted video games sounding off in the background. He was certain the only way the boy would leave it -apart from the threat of being denied food- was the presents Marge would no doubt bring along. Not because she favoured Dudley, Harry suspected she didn't particularly like him, but because she shared Dudley's fondness for making Harry miserable. This may have been enough for Dudley and Marge to fake affection toward each other but it was not enough to get her into petunias good graces.

A knock at the door had petunia crossing herself and murmuring a prayer for patience.

"Vernon! Get the dog he's been cooped up far too long. I'll never understand it, forcing him down there with common mongrels. Airplane attendants don't understand good breeding when they see it." Marge Dursley thumped her way into the dining room, drew back a chair with a screech and plopped herself down in it in a manner that had Petunia cringing. The large woman's eyes came to rest on Harry. "Speaking of breeding..."

Petunia handed him the wine. Their morals were awesomely questionable.

* * *

 **30 JULY 1993 - 1904 Hrs (7:04pm)**

 **4 PRIVET DRIVE - SURREY - DURSLEY RESIDENCE**

Harry Potter stared at his poorly thought out yet hilarious -if potentially damning- bit of magic. Aunt Marge bobbed in the air above the dining room table with her already massive body expanding by the second. She resembled a distorted human balloon as her features stretched and pulled. He wanted to say he hadn't meant to do it. That would be lying.

"What have you done?" Vernon's mustache quivered above furious lips, between reddening cheeks. "Petunia! Fetch me a rope. We'll pull her down."

Petunia dabbed her napkin against her mouth from her spot at the table. Indifference personified. "I'm afraid I can't remember where I last saw it Vernon." A negligent attempt at a confused expression lay thinly veiled over a generally pleased aura. Amused even. "Boy?"

Harry's shoulders stiffened. "Yes Aunt Petunia?"

"Do you recall seeing any rope when you cleaned out the shed?" She asked it almost innocently, straightening her silverware and avoiding eye contact with Vernon.

"I haven't seen ma'am." Said Harry. He tried to look somewhat upset about it. The rope was in the box under the garden hose. He knew this because he Petunia put it there not four days ago.

This was the final straw for Vernon. The man lunged to his feet causing the table and the chairs to tremble from his tremendous weight being thrown about. Beefy hands yanked Harry up by the collar of a too large shirt.

"You put her right Freak. Fix her."

Harry swallowed. "I...I can't. I don't know how."

"You put her right." Vernon bellowed.

When that failed to produce results the large man proceeded to manhandle his nephew out of the dining room. Just inside the hallway he stopped. Harry was shaken hard enough he thought his eyeballs would pop right out of the back of his head.

"Fix. Her."

"I don't know how!" Harry slapped a hand over his mouth in horror. It was too late. He'd yelled at Uncle Vernon. The man smiled. Crap. His uncle shoved him forward and let him go. Unable to stop his momentum, Harry slammed into the wall just outside his old cupboard. Hard. Harry shut his eyes and gathered a deep breath. It was quieter now/ He wondered what had happened to Marge.

Vernon grasped him under his shoulders, pulled him to his feet then sent him flying into the wall again. And again. The fourth time Harry crumpled to the floor and didn't get up. His emerald eyes flickered to the left. Petunia sat in her chair, calmly finishing her dinner. She didn't look at him once. At the end of the day his aunt was a weak person and cared little enough for him that she couldn't be bothered with acquiring bravery for his sake. He'd known she wouldn't do anything. He'd known.

It hurt anyway.

"Get up."

Harry winced, hunching his shoulders and ducking his head. "No. Please."

His Uncle yanked him up, held him there. They started moving down the hall. Toward the stairs. "No. No...no...no." They were gonna lock him up again. He knew it. They were going to shut him in that room with those locks and that horrid cat flap. Harry couldn't do that again. He just couldn't. He hated being shut in. Trapped. He wouldn't do it.

* * *

 **30 JULY 1993 - 1928 Hrs (7:28pm)**

 **4 PRIVET DRIVE - SURREY - DURSLEY RESIDENCE**

Harry Potter snapped.

The entire house shuddered. Once. Just the once. And then again. It didn't stop this time. He couldn't make it stop. Instinctively knew if he stopped it he'd never be able to do what he planned to do next. Pictures in their frames sung on the walls, candlesticks rattled on the mantle above th fireplace. Magazines slid off the table in the living room, plates crashed to the floor in the kitchen. A roar of magic beat against them all. He could hear, barely, his aunt give a frightened shriek and hide herself beneath the table. In the midst of the chaos Harry tumbled to this cupboard, dashing inside to retrieve his trunk. His fingertips were a hairs breath from the knob on the front door when he heard him.

"Where d you think you're going? They won't take you boy. We've asked. They'll bring you back and then you'll be sorry. Even the freaks don't want The Freak." His uncles laughter cut off as Harry opened the door and stepped out, slamming it behind him.

The quiet darkened street was a stark contrast to the storm raging within the walls of the Dursley home. Harry hauled his trunk down the pavement to the end of the street. Far enough away he couldn't see the house anymore. He stood there. Gazing at nothing. Then he dropped the trunk. It banged against the curb. Harry kicked it twice and growled.

"I hate them." He declared.

With that he sat beside his trunk and propped his chin in his hands, careful to avoid the other parts of his face. He ached everywhere. What would he do now? Where would he go? Did you go to Azakaban -the wizarding prison- for blowing up people and destroying homes? You might. It sounded like something you would get in real trouble for whether you were related to the people involved or not. Maybe even more so then. Harry couldn't imagine the muggles would be honest in their recounting of what happened if they were asked by authorities and magical or not his uncle would enjoy talking to anyone who would get Harry in to trouble. No he needed to leave. He needed to get far away from there before someone came looking for him. Where to go? That was the question there. The real one. He'd known that the moment he decided to get his trunk and make a run for it. He was running away. Finally.

Harry took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes.

A leaf crunched,

Harry's eyes snapped open in alarm. There not ten feet away stood an impossible sized black dog. Harry stared at it. The dog stared at Harry. He thought he'd been hit in the head harder than first imagined when the dogs features began to stretch and bend until it was a man with unkempt black hair in black robes there kneeling in the street. The might-be-hallucination raised his hands slowly. Harry didn't see a wand anywhere.

"Are you...a wizard?" He asked in a sort of autopilot driven daze. The only person he'd ever seen do something remotely like that was his Professor of Transfiguration who could turn into a cat.

The man nodded, pulling one leg beneath and rising. He walked toward Harry. He kept his hands up, gray eyes roaming over the teenage wizard in foreign familiarity. Harry ought to be more cautious he knew. After all a wizard tried to kill him in his first year and another attempted to wipe his memories the year after. The man -wizard- kneeled before him, reaching out with hands surprisingly soft to cup his face.

"What happened?" He rasped.

It took a moment for Harry to realize he must have already formed bruises if not cuts. Harry felt his guard fly up. Instinctual at this point. He was nearly thirteen and it was sad but truth that his interactions with adults up to this point weren't the stuff trust was built on. Suspicion though. Suspicion and distrust and an expectation to come out of the encounter worse for his trouble...those were familiarly feelings in this sort of situation.

"It doesn't matter." Harry murmured." It never does. None of you care."

The strange man frowned. An expression which seemed wrong on a face filled with laugh lines, albeit a dirty face presently.

"This has...happened...before."

He let out a laugh that was somewhat hysterical. "This is my life." He choked out. Then to his horror he found himself weeping in front of them man. Harry reach ip to wipe his face and the man caught his hand.

"It doesn't have to be. Harry."

His breath caught. "What do you mean? Explain." Anger roiled in him. Suspicion. Unwilling to let even a glimmer of hope into his veins until he was certain he wasn't about to get let down. Harry had yet to meet a single adult he count on. How many teachers. How many neighbors. Ho man saw him working day after day, saw the way he was treated and spoken to? None of them had ever done anything.

Dumbledore did nothing.

"Do you know me?" The man asked.

Harry studied his face quickly. "No. I don't recognize you."

The wizard murmured something under his breath. "My name is Sirius Black. We are cousins of a sort through your grandmother, Dorea."

Harry sat there in front of him his mind gone blank and still. "I wasn't aware I had any living magical relatives." He said. His voice just as blank as his mind. Somewhere inside of him the information was stored away with care. Somewhere inside of him a part of him clung to the knowledge with a fierce hopefulness Harry tried to shove to the side for the moment. There was no need to indulge in wishes and might-bes just yet. The man seemed sincere in his demeanor so far, the tones of his voice. That didn't mean anything to Harry. His relatives sounded perfectly honest when they told people he was disturbed and they were doing their best but there just wasn't any cure for some people. Everyone believed them because they sounded honest. Honesty was relative.

Speaking of relatives.

The wizard -Black- frowned again. "No? Narcissa and Andromeda are living, last I heard. Bella is...indisposed. You won't have seen her around of course. There are...two younger cousins about your age...Draco and Nymphadora?" The man tried.

Harry choked on some air. "Draco? As in Malfoy? Draco Malfoy?"

"You know him then." The man relaxed a little.

Malfoy was his cousin. He was related to Draco Malfoy. Merlin had the other boy known? Harry stiffened. Oh God no wonder the blonde was so upset. He thought Harry rejected him and favoured Ron over him on purpose...how would that have looked? The entire incident? If the boy thought Harry had known who he was? That they were cousins? How would it have looked it the other kids around watching them? Harry felt guilty. He was strange wasn't he? He felt little to nothing over blowing up Marge yet here he was feeling sorry for hurting Draco Malfoy's feelings.

The blonde was still a spoilt git.

* * *

 **30 JULY 1993 - 1940 Hrs (7:40pm)**

 **4 PRIVET DRIVE - SURREY - DURSLEY RESIDENCE**

Black opened his mouth, shut it then opened it again. "I'm your godfather Harry." Just blurting stuff out must run in the family. Wait...

"You..." Harry stared at him. This was too much all at once. Too much. "Why haven't I met you before? Where have you been?"

How many family members did he have running about that he didn't even know about? Why didn't anyone tell him? He could have gotten to know them. Stayed with them over the summer. Had friends growing up. _Even the freaks don't want The Freak._ His fingers curled into the palms of his hands bitingly. Best not to think on that right now.

"You have." Harry looked up. "You were only a baby then. I was there for your birth and you first birthday party. Your first winter's celebration too."

Harry battled with himself then blurted. "If you're my Godfather and I have other magical relatives than why I am I living with Un...the muggles." He didn't want to think about his uncle.

"I don't know." Black admitted. "I intend to find out." Fingers brushed over Harry's face gently, mindful of his wounds. I am so sorry Harry. I should have been here. " Black stood abruptly and held out his hand. "Do you trust me?"

He blinked. "I...what?"

"Come with me." Black pulled him to his feet. "Quickly. You don't have to stay here. You don't have to go back."

His heart pounded. This wasn't happening. He was passed out on the floor in the hallway. There wasn't any way that his most repeated daydream of some long relative coming to rescue him was coming true. It just wasn't possible. There was a catch. There had to be. He sucked in a breath and let it out. But anywhere was better than there. He could figure out what this man wanted and if he didn't like it he would leave.

"What about Dumbledore?"

Black shrunk Harry's trunk and put it in a pocket hidden within the darkness of his robes. "What about him?"

Harry flicked his eyes around them. Shouldn't someone have come after him by now? How long had they been standing there? The hopeful fluttery feeling in his chest he'd tried to shove aside withered into icy blank nothing. "He informed me I was to stay here. I am not allowed to stay at the school for the summer and have been informed spontaneous excursion to friend's home are...unwise. Unnecessary. The Dursleys are my legal guardians. What if someone comes for me? If they try to being me back?"

Arms wound around him, holding Harry close. "I'd like to see anyone try." Black growled. The air around Harry pressed in on him, squeezing, the world twisted. With a pop they were gone.

* * *

 **Pseudonymous Entity**

 **2016**

* * *

 **NOTES:**

Thoughts? Guesses? Questions? Theories? Limericks?


	2. Serpents, Portraits and Blacks

**PSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEU**

* * *

 **~~* Getting Away with Murder *~~**

* * *

 **Summary:** What do you think would change if Harry met Black a little sooner? If Black was more focused on Harry and keeping him safe? A lot of things apparently.

 **Characters:** Harry Potter, Sirius Black, Walburga Black

 **Warnings:** Purebloods. Violence. Plotting. **[Am I alone in viewing Purebloods as a warning? It certainly ought to be one.]**

 **AN:** One shot/Two shot. I do have an outline for this plot bunny if anyone is interested in seeing where it goes.

 **Ever Yours, P** **seu**

* * *

 _It has many names and many faces, some men flee it, some men chase it_

 _Every man must face it in the end_

 _No man can escape forever, your time is up my friend_

 _Because there's no god nor shield nor keep that can defend_

 _All men must die_

 _You can fight for freedom or fight for redemption, fight for the greater good or even fight for the hell of it_

 _Fight to live your life while you're alive_

 _Yes we'll fight to live, we'll fight for one another, fight against the kings, fight forever_

 _Know that we're coming for you and you can't hide_

 _After all_

 _All men must die_

* * *

When the world popped back into place it was a very different world than the one he'd left behind.

Far from the streets of Surrey he stood on the front steps to a home he could barely make out in the darkness. It was enough, on his first glance around, for him to know this was the sort of neighborhood that would have the Dursley's drooling in jealousy. All of the house looked expensive, the street was clean, the grass cropped, the street light he could see down the way was in good shape shining brightly. It occurred to him they might be breaking in to the house then he dismissed the thought. Black had known exactly where he was going so if he did steal the house he'd done it already. A nice house was better than a small room with locks on it at any rate and much better than a cupboard. Hermione would give him grief it they _were_ going to be living in a stolen house as he imagined the previous owners would have been disposed of, but he could always avoid telling her. It wasn't really a conversation that came up everyday. He'd tell Ron though. The red head would probably think it was cool. Harry grinned. Then winced. His face hurt.

 _"...like a common street urchin or a thief in the alleys. Coming home looking like that after leaving that way. No I won't be letting him in, I won't let his filthy hands touch me..."_

He might have been able to see more if he weren't stuck on the serpentine knocker on the door that was currently mocking Black's ragged appearance. Harry had first thought there was another wizard here, meeting them, until he noticed the little knocker swaying and glaring at Black, offended by his attire.

 _"...He can fetch Regulus to let him in or stand out here until he catches cold. Yes that's what I'll do, I'll make him stand here and I'll be watching his filthy face turn blue..."_

He laughed. He shouldn't have, it was only the year prior he'd learned all the trouble speaking to snakes could get you in, but it really was funny how offended the snake was. Harry wasn't much better off honestly, he had on Dudley's hand me downs, his face was covered in bruises, his hair as messy as it always was. He suspected if Black wasn't there the snake might have been insulting him instead.

"What's so funny?" Asked Black, raising a brow.

 _"...a dirty icicle..."_

Harry snickered and nodded at the small snake figurine.

 _"That isn't a nice thing to say at all when don't know who might be listening."_ Harry informed it. The snake rose up higher on the door to get a look at him. Without another word it coiled and the door clicked open.

Black grasped the handle, pausing to look at Harry. "No wonder Dumbledore wants to keep an eye on you." He didn't look disgusted or fearful, only grimly amused. "Just stay here for now Harry. This isn't a house to wander about in if you don't know what's already inside. There's a lot worse that can happen than just getting lost, do you understand?"

Harry nodded. Three minutes later he decided there wasn't much trouble he could get into exploring the entryway. Harry walked a bit further in taking in the dark paneling on the walls and the dark stone on the floors. Candles flared to life with every step he took inside the hallway. Perhaps Black had turned on the magical equivalent of a light switch. A long, thin rung ran along the center of the floor, a dark purple with silver details he couldn't make out. Everything, the side table, the door knobs, the unlit chandelier hanging by the staircases he could see at the other end, all of it in black. A fitting home for someone named Black really, Harry mused, snickering into the silence of the hallway. Harry spied a curtain on the wall and though he'd peer out to figure out where in England they might be. It was not a window but a large portrait he found. A middle aged woman with dark curls pinned to her head sat in a chair. She woke when the dim candle light hit her face revealing eyes just as gray as Black's. A relative of his then.

Harry opened his mouth to apologize for waking her. She spoke first.

"What happened to you child?" The woman looked him over slowly, like a scientist examining a specimen in a lab. Harry felt uncomfortable and out of place in is his too big muggle clothes before the portrait of this magical woman wearing fine dress robes and a superior air.

"I...ran into a wall." It was the truth.

"Is that all?"

He started to confirm it was when the woman narrowed her eyes. Harry coughed and shifted his weight on his feet. "My uncle may have helped." Helped. Thrown him at the wall. Same difference really. She glanced behind him perhaps looking for whoever else might be in the hallway with him.

"Tell me child, that it was not a _Black_ who dared put a hand to a child?" She looked outraged.

His eyes widened. "No ma'am. In fact it was a black that rescued me." He assured her quickly, hands waving, not wanting the woman to tell off Black when she saw him. In fact Black was just about the coolest adult he'd ever met, with his long hair and tattoos, even if he did look like he'd slept on the street the night before and hadn't eaten a good meal recently. Harry would what he could get frankly and if that meant being seen with this ragamuffin wizard he was more than willing. Sort of. He still wasn't counting on getting to stay here. Harry didn't think he could handle it if he started thinking of this place at home and then was forced to go back to the Dursleys. It was better to stay distant until he was certain.

"Oh?"

"Cousin Sirius came for me." He still did not how the man managed to be there at so opportune a time. Obviously the man knew where Harry was living even if he didn't know about his treatment there before tonight.

"My Sirius? You are a Black yourself then. That makes me your relation as well child. I am Walburga Black, Sirius is my son. Yes I think I can see it in the cheeks and the hair colour." Harry jolted at being accepted as family so easily by this woman. It made his heart twist terribly.

"Yes ma'am."

Harry jumped when the woman yelled suddenly. "You can come out of the shadows now Siri, I can't curse you like this."

His godfather stepped into the light a bit sheepishly.

"Well then." Said Walburga. "What are we going to do about this? You aren't to let his family take him back."

"Yes mum." Said Black.

She began pacing in her portrait. "He needs to be fed. Looks like he hasn't been fed properly a day in his life."

"Yes mum."

"No sweets Sirius. I mean it. He needs real food. Poor thing, I don't know if we can do much about his size. No matter, we'll pay him back in the skins of his tormentors. You do intend to inform them of their grave mistake?" Walburga stopped to stare her son down.

"...Yes mum."

Black was looking so much like a teenager caught sneaking in after curfew that it was ridiculous. Tattoos didn't do much against the full force of a mother apparently. Harry fought to keep a smile from his face. It was different from the smothering warmth of the Weasleys but it was just as good in it's own way he decided.

"Who in Mordred's name has been watching after the child?"

"Muggles. He was left with his mum's muggle relative after her death."

Walburga spun to stare at Harry then turned back to Black. "Why would anyone put this boy in with muggles? He's a Black! Surely one of us would volunteer to be responsible for him. Both Cissy and Andy have children about his age don't they?"

"I am responsible for him." Said Black and suddenly he was standing straighter and altogether the most intimidating Harry had ever seen him. "I went to retrieve him. Hagrid, a man from Hogwarts, was there already. He wouldn't give me the boy, said Dumbledore had a safe place for him. I let him take my old bike to get Harry there quicker. Peter, the idiot, was still out there somewhere. I had to get him before he could finish what he started. Dumbledore might have thought the place was safe but everyone thought Godric's Hallow was safe as well. I didn't know he was taking him to be with muggles. I would never have let them go."

"That meddling old fool! I told James he was better off letting Arcturus cast the Fidelous but no they just had to go with Albus Dumbledore." Walburga spat. She sat in her chair and crossed her legs looking like a Queen. A dark queen.

"You know Dumbledore mum." Black whispered, "He can't help but get involved."

"Why would he send him off with muggles? I don't understand it, even _he_ knows the rules. He should have seen him to Cissy if not you or even Andy if made him feel better. Why go through the trouble of putting him in with muggles when he would only find out about his rightful world and his magical relatives when he reentered it?"

The rules? What rules? Harry watched them in fascination feeling both more a part of the magical world than he ever had and more removed from it. The pureblood aspect of it, realized. He wondered if Malfoy and his parents spoke like this, plotting so easily and speaking of revered wizards how ever they wished. They probably did. He couldn't see a Malfoy allowing anyone to tell them what they could or couldn't do. Or a Black for that matter.

His godfather shook his head, long black hair curtaining around his face when he briefly looked down. "I don't think...I don't think he ever intended for Harry to find out about us. When I found him tonight he didn't know me, he'd never heard my name. He didn't know he was related to Narcissa's boy either. But I think..." He licked chapped lips. "I think I know why he's gotten so involved. He can speak mum. The boy did it in front of my own eyes just before we came in. He spoke with the serpent on the door knocker."

Walburga was quiet. "I see. Well that settles it. We're keeping him and if _he_ wants to keep meddling we'll show him his proper place, won't we?"

"Yes mum." Black grinned.

Harry took a step forward. Both Blacks turned to him. Harry swallowed and eyed them both. "You want me to stay? You're not...you're not going to make me go back?" Blacks arms were around him again, holding him. Harry thought he might be shaking.

Walburga gave him a small smile over Black's shoulder.. "You happened to be standing, young Black, in the entrance way of the home to the Ancient and Noble House of Black. We've got heirlooms hidden within these walls the Aurors and the ministry have been after for centuries. If they haven't managed to get inside to get them, they certainly won't manage it to get inside to get you."

She leaned forward, eyes blazing. " _No one_ messes with a Black."

* * *

 **Pseudonymous Entity**

 **2015**


	3. Cutlery, House Elves and Art

**PSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEU**

* * *

 **~~* Getting Away with Murder *~~**

* * *

 **Summary:** What do you think would change if Harry met Black a little sooner? If Black was more focused on Harry and keeping him safe? A lot of things apparently.

 **Characters:** Harry Potter, Sirius Black, Walburga Black

 **Warnings:** Purebloods. Violence. Plotting. **[Am I alone in viewing Purebloods as a warning? It certainly ought to be one.]**

 **Comments, Questions, Guesses, Conspiracy Theories?** Put them in your review. I do my best to reply!

 **AN: Alright.** I'm writing out the story, you've won me over. Here's hoping I don't screw it up. Thank for your support. I'll try not to disappoint you.

 **ANx2:** I didn't sleep for three days so I could write out a political system and Pureblood customs for this story. There will be lots of it coming. You may bow at my feet and present me with your loveliest daughter or sons at any time. Additionally, any thoughts on it or ideas are totally welcomed. It was actually a lot of fun even if I do need to pass out desperately.

 **Ever Yours, Pseu**

* * *

 _We began with concluding remarks, put together the pieces and examined the parts_

 _It's in the way we sell every word and phrase, saying that and meaning this, using hands for emphasis_

 _This is the way it goes in the game of politics_

 _It's in the way we sell every word and phrase, leaving the world to guess how much the meaning weighs_

 _Cue tears of distress, cue wide eyed innocence_

* * *

Walburga decided it was time for bed, at the very least for Harry, and would not be moved. Only pouting a little Harry followed Black up three flights of stairs, down the middle hall to the third room along. He was going to ask the significance, if any, of the three and three pattern until he saw the room its self and promptly lost ability to speak. Harry was certain he could fit the entirety of the Dursley's living room within it. At some point in the midst of his staring his godfather left the room quietly.

The-boy-who-lived-to-run-away woke up some time later, pulling back the curtains from around his bed and blinking into the muted light of the room. More curtains covered the windows lining the far wall. Enough light came through that he felt confidant it was late enough he could get up and about without waking anyone. He made the mistake, after finally finding the right stairwell and locating the first floor, of wishing Walburga a good morning.

"Recite it once more."

The once more bit was misleading. You simply said once more or once again rather than 'again' if you could help it though 'once more' and 'once again' _meant_ again and there could be a disheartening amount of additional once mores and once agains. Walburga had tried to explain that saying 'again' was an order while saying 'once more' or similar was more of a request, though in this case it was a polite command. Of that there was no confusion.

Harry stared at the place setting in front of him forlornly. His great aunt, as he'd been instructed to think of her, refused to give him directions to the kitchen until he could properly identify and use a place setting. Harry had agreed to this arrangement confidant in his abilities from setting the table for the Dursley's business meetings. He really wish he'd known what he was getting into. Before him lay no less than five forks, three knives, four if you counted the butter knife which Walburga did not as it was a 'butter spreader' not a knife apparently, two plates, five glasses and two spoons. Perhaps it was good he hardly ate at his relatives home, he didn't think he'd get to eat here anytime soon either so really it had been good practice.

"Come now, raise your chin and give an answer. Don't give up so easy."

Resisting the urge to sigh, which would get him another lecture, he sat up a little straighter. "Knives and spoons to the right, forks and napkins to the left, drinks to the right and bread plates to the left. Use cutlery from the outside in. Never call attention to your mistakes, resolve them quickly and quietly."

From her painted chair she studied looking for all the world as a queen on her throne measuring the merits of an heir. Not that was intimidating or anything.

"Very good."

Harry let out a revealed breath.

"No slouching."

He scowled. "With, believe me, every ounce of possible respect you might expect, I have to ask...what on earth is the point? How do you manage to get any eating done properly when you're constantly keeping all of these rules in mind and watching everyone else's movements as well?"

She gave one of her small smiles, crossing her legs at the ankles and folding her hands in her lap. "It is a language young Black. A code. Only those in the know will understand it. It is a way of expressing opinions, alliances, relationships and political leanings without having to broadcast them aloud. This is a very basic start."

"What's the point though? Why bother with it?"

"In this world to move a step in any direction has consequences. The most we can do is have control over the choice in direction and anticipate the repercussions. In your life thus far it would fair to say you are living a reactionary life against the choices made in it by others." Walburga straightened a sleeve. "If I have understood correctly, you are unhappy. You are living with muggles, know very little of the world you were born to and have no true contact, until now, with any of your magical relatives who might help you. We suspect this situation not to be an accident. You yourself claim Dumbledore has refused your requests for alternative housing. It can therefore be assumed there are one or more people in your life yanking you the directions they wish you to go."

He noted she had taken up the habit of subtly rephrasing what she was saying to ensure his comprehension when some of the things she said seemed to go over his head. Harry wasn't sure if he were annoyed or thankful for it. "...yes."

"And we wish to remedy that do we not?" She tilted her head. Not a question but he was still required to give a response.

Harry scratched at the side of the table, uncomfortable. "Yes ma'am." He muttered.

"Make eye contact and speak up please."

"Yes ma'am."

"Well then." She clapped. "Consider this your first lesson."

"In what?"

She ignored him entirely. He was a little miffed. "Kreacher!" An ancient elf popped into the room scaring the pants off of Harry.

"Mistress summons me? Kreacher is happy to help his mistress, yes Kreacher is happy." It bowed low enough for it's ears to droop on the floor.

 _Kreacher is damned creepy that's what he is,_ thought Harry.

"Bring young Master Black a light meal, we shall dine in here for the morning." Without a word the elf popped away and popped back leaving a tray on the small table Harry sat at. Slices of bread, various jams and fruit were arranged on it for Harry's perusal. He took a slice of bread remembering to tear of small pieces and butter them as he ate them rather than buttering the entire thing and nibbling. Walburga frowned on nibbling.

"If you want to control your fate," she began, "you must be able to not only form your own opinions but to gain access to the information and the experiences to allow you to make them wisely and objectively. One must be able to discern which choices one genuinely wants and which are needed. One must be able to enforce them, what is the good in having a preferred choice if you're not allowed to make one, and accept and endure the potential consequences. Harry you _must_ put yourself in a position of power over your life and remove the footholds of would-be masters. This is the only way for you to have a chance of contentment during your existence."

Harry raised one finger to show he had a comment. He drank some water to get his bite of apple down. "What if I make a mistake?"

"When you make a mistake, because you will, remember this; we make the best choices we can with the information we have at the time. Accept that you made a mistake and accept the consequences. Do not waste your time dreaming of alternative choices you might have made."

"It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live." Whispered Harry.

Walburga made him finish his apple slices before continuing. "To do any of this, we must first know ourselves. You have to understand and accept every aspect of yourself. You must know yourself as no one else ever will. Your virtues. Your fears. Your less than honourable talents and desires. It can be hard. To really accept the person you are, the person you once were, the person you have the potential to become. To understand the reasons why. All of the experiences forming you into who you are today. Young Black, you must always be able to answer, to yourself, who you are in this moment. In order to navigate the elegant and unforgiving chaos of the universe you must always see, and never lose sight of, yourself. We can lie to the world, present ourselves however we like to the people within it but we must never lie to ourselves. Ignoring your flaws, seeing yourself through rose coloured glass, lying to yourself gives the enemy the tools and opportunity for your destruction."

"So...the eating rules?" He really didn't know what else to call them.

"When you know yourself and understand what makes you think the way you think it is easier to see it in others, to guess their thought processes and their emotions. Every little thing one does means something if the right person sees and interprets it. The rules you choose to enforce with something as simple as eating can say a lot about you. Who taught you etiquette, what sort of upbringing you might have had, how much you care how your behavior offends those around you. There is a _wealth_ of knowledge for you to exploit if you recognize and utilize it. One can ensure or halt the rise of a politician or an heir to a throne. Begin a war or a blood feud with whispered words. Have the reliable, loyal associates around the world willing to help you with anything you desire the _moment_ you should ask."

He'd been listening. Intently. The further along the discussion went the clearer he thought he understood the point even if she hadn't come right out and said it. He was curious if she would admit it to him or not if he asked or if she would try to pass it off as a 'Pureblood' thing. Which it totally was but he could see where this was going and it was a lot more than just acting like a Pureblood. Harry finished his meal, laid his knife and spoon across his plate in a tight row, patted his mouth with his silk napkin and raised his eyes to his great aunt. Picture perfect pureblood heir.

She looked immediately suspicious.

"Auntie Walburga," he said, keeping his voice soft so she had to pay more attention to hear him, "what, exactly, are these lessons in? Give me a title."

Black chose that moment to pop into the room, hair damp from a shower. "How To Rule The World 101." He suggested, ignoring his mother's scandalized and faintly amused expression, sitting himself across from Harry and picking up a water goblet. "Or perhaps, the art of getting away with murder."

* * *

 **Pseudonymous Entity**

 **2015**


	4. Questions, Variables and a Thought

**PSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEU**

* * *

 **~~* Getting Away with Murder *~~**

* * *

 **Summary:** What do you think would change if Harry met Black a little sooner? If Black was more focused on Harry and keeping him safe? A lot of things apparently.

 **Characters:** Harry Potter, Sirius Black, [the Black family], more later on

 **Warnings:** Purebloods. Violence. Plotting. **[Am I alone in viewing Purebloods as a warning? It certainly ought to be one.]**

 **Comments, Questions, Guesses, Conspiracy Theories?** Put them in your review. I do my best to reply!

 **AN:** I have an _84,027_ word document  devoted to the pureblood culture and customs I've created for this story and it's growing! I have gotten way more into its creation than I thought I would and the research for it is very interesting. I do hope you lot enjoy it as the entire story sort of rides on the nuances of the purebloods' society and its effect on the wizarding society as a whole. I've always thought it would be so interesting to see how these people [ _like Lucius Malfoy anybody?_ ] always manage to get themselves out of trouble and pretty much steamroll anybody in their way when there's something that they want. This fic is devoted to this concept used to Harry's advantage. The kid needs it doesn't he? In canon he's sort of flipped and flopped with the whims of public opinion and Albus Dumbledore with no real way to direct or shield himself. Especially that whole TriWizard Tournament fiasco.

 **ANx2** : Special shout out to HinaLuvLuvChan who's given me the deed to her first three children, whenever they should come along. To DeadGirlRisen who comments on all of my stories and couldn't see this yesterday, thus I waited until today. To Shadowblayze, giver of fun to read and occasionally very useful reviews. Finally to Lysandra Black, who, other than having a fabulous choice in usernames, shares my liking for a more rational Walburga.

 **Ever Yours, Pseu** [ **Master of Awesome** ] And ridiculously good-looking too.

* * *

 _Some fights just ain't fair_

 _Here's a little story how the west was won, the white men came and took out everyone_

 _They used dirty blankets and they used machine guns_

 _And they didn't think twice about what they'd done_

 _Don't bring a knife to a gun fight you'll lose_

 _Some fights just ain't fair_

 _Here's a little story about the congressmen, they bailed out all their billionaire friends_

 _And you can try to blame Bush and you can try to blame Obama_

 _But you shoulda fucking learned from your daddy or your mama_

 _You don't bring a knife to a gun fight you'll lose_

 _Some fights just ain't fair_

 _You stand in front of tanks the tanks are gonna win!_

 _You don't bring a knife to a gunfight_

* * *

It seemed to him that Aunt Walburga and Black both expected great things from him.

While it was unbalancing having anything at all expected out of him other than the occasional basilisk slaying, in a very good way, it was also intimidating. Even once he'd joined the wizarding world and learned of his famous moniker Harry had only ever felt like the-freak-under-the-stairs. It was a far cry from the-boy-who-lived. He was overwhelmed. All of this was happening so quickly. Only yesterday he was making dinner for the Dursleys and today he was in a manor of all things seated with a Lord and his mother learning the proper way to sip his tea. A Lord who was apparently his godfather.

And this brought up even more questions. Why was the man dressed like he'd been sleeping in an alley somewhere when he had this huge house? Where had he been, why didn't he come for Harry sooner? He obviously knew where Harry lived so he could have at least come to visit him or even take him home for the winter and Easter holidays. There wasn't anything wrong with spending time with the Weasley's as he had last summer but it just wasn't the same as being with actual family members who wanted him around. They were so offended on his behalf too. So ready to leap to his defense, to teach him things he ought to have grown up learning if only he'd lived with one of his magical relatives rather than the Dursleys.

"Why haven't I met you before?" Harry asked, interrupting a discussion on specific requirements for his age versus exemptions he'd receive as a result of his status. What that status was he did not know, he had other concerns. Black set down his water goblet and patted his mouth, managing to look manly and dangerous as he did so. Harry was a tiny bit envious. He thought _he_ looked like a ponce.

His godfather and his aunt exchanged a glance. "I was not certain how I might be received," he admitted. "I was unaware you knew nothing of me and I did know what you might hear of me had a number of things that do not fall into the -shall we say- squeaky clean category. My family being the Black among them though not the worst thing you could have heard. I didn't want to interrupt your life Harry. I'll confess to watching you over the last week. Out of curiosity really. Were you loved, were you happy, did you even need me anymore? You'll be thirteen in a week and your parents have been dead a very long time. You grew up with your mother's family. A father figure might not be needed or accepted. Let alone any other sort of authority figure. You could have resented me as a reminder of the parents I knew so well and you will never know. You could have similar prejudices toward families like mine as often dealt with when I was around your age. That's a lot of variables to work with Harry."

"Well," said Harry, "I think I would have started with 'Hi'."

After a surprising bout of laughter from Auntie Walburga the lesson continued. No one pointed out that Black's answer had given Harry more questions and rather artfully danced around genuinely answering the question.

"Did I mention the aurors might be after me?" Harry blurted. He could have said it better. He could have waited for a lull in the conversation. But with each kind word and piece of praise and encouragement Harry felt little knives digging into him. He felt guilty. They seemed so sure of their safety, of their ability to protect him, shouldn't he let them know what they were getting themselves into? Now however he felt incredibly anxious. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything at all.

"Excellent!" declared Black, startling him, "We'll form a club shall we?"

Harry stared at his godfather. That wasn't quite the reaction he'd been expecting.

"What did you do then?" Black's Lordliness was gone replaced with an impatient, excited child.

Taken aback, and wary, Harry thought over his answer carefully. They really did deserve to know the authorities would be paying more attention to them than just for a potential kidnapping of the-boy-who-lived. "I may or may not have blown up one of my aunt's after she implied I ought to have been drowned at birth."

In her painting Aunt Walburga covered her smile with a gloved hand. " ' _May or may not_ '. He's already got the right idea hasn't he?"

Black shot her a grin. "Oh that's nothing we'll get you out of that easy won't we?" The Lord straightened his robes, which were rather looser than Harry was used to seeing, as if it wasn't a problem at all.

"Will we?" Asked Harry. Should he be concerned that they weren't concerned with his possible random bouts of accidental violence or potential criminal record if he actually was arrested for it?

Black stood and started walking down the hallway. "Come along, time for your next lesson."

Harry stared after him. What in the ever loving...?

"Go on," said Aunt Walburga, "I'll meet you there." The former Lady of house Black walked from her portrait.

Realizing that yes they were legitimately changing the subject just like that, Harry stood. It took him a moment to find the right door, the house was larger than it seemed at first look, with doors that led to hallways that couldn't possibly fit. When he finally found them Black was lounged in a chair with one leg bent close to his chest and the other hung flippantly across the arm of the chair. With his loose silk robes and freshly washed hair he looked far more the image of a pureblood lord than he had the previous night. A Lord with tattoos everywhere.

Walking further into the room Harry gave a shrug and took the seat across from him. Mentally Harry dubbed the room The Gossip Room, inspired by the sight of Walburga flickering between the portraits along the opposite wall whispering with the unknown figured within. Other Black relatives Harry supposed. No introductions were made upon his arrival so he figured he'd meet them later or that it wasn't deemed important enough to do so then. Harry turned to his godfather expectantly.

"I am going to teach you how to use the second greatest weapon of the Black family. There is only one House that can rival us in this specific weapon and we married the families together upon this discovery to remedy the problem." Black informed him. "Can you give a guess what it might be?"

Harry glanced around the room. He saw a few books, several places set up to sit, two desks in the back, one wall of windows to his left and a wall of portraits to the right. Nothing that screamed weapon unless they planned on taking the enemy by surprise and wacking them over the head with a particularly large tome. Something Hermione would both be proficient at and be horrified by.

"I really don't know." He confessed.

"Mother taught you earlier the beginnings of the silent language. The physically demonstrative portion at least. This is very useful however _verbal_ warfare is something that can never be ignored or dismissed. Most especially with a family as notoriously good at it as our own."

Harry's cheeks warmed. It felt so good to be referred to as 'family' without it being an insult. Subconsciously he sat up a little straighter, wishing his clothes were neater and he'd bothered to comb his hair. He still didn't completely trust that he would get to remain here, he couldn't let himself do that, but if being a Black would encourage these people to keep him here. If it would keep him from ever having to go back to the Dursleys and give him a home to come to at Christmas. Well, he'd be the best Black the world had ever seen.

"Our mouths."

Harry's thoughts derailed. "Mouths?"

Black gave a nod. "Words are not only tools for communication; they are also weapons. I will teach you how to come out victorious from almost any situation by the use of verbal weaponry to confuse, puzzle, humiliate, alarm, insult and even compliment - all of course with relative impunity." That made so much more sense. Alright words, trickery. He understood this at least. He'd grown up with Vernon Dursley who often used his words to get what he wanted from wealthy clients and his superiors. He'd seen the twins talk themselves out of trouble and he would never forget his first potions lesson and Snape's speech or pretty much any other time the man opened his mouth.

"You can for example," continued Walburga, "smile sweetly and inform one that he or she is a rebarbative oligophreniac who deserves vapulation."

Harry honestly had no idea what she just said but didn't think it was a compliment because no one needed to smile sweetly when they didn't have something to hide. Dudley taught him that. Or was it a compliment pretending to be an insult? His face must have given his puzzlement away.

"This is what we call an insult concealed." Explained Black. "You shall learn to recognize, implement and distinguish between them and an Insult Apparent or the Compliment Questionable. All different shades and flavors of weaponry that are invaluable accessories to the Lordly Warrior."

Walburga motioned to Harry. "Words are weapons but they are also toys of a sort. You may indulge in a good deal of merriment, and in your godfather's case cause a fair share of mischief, with artfully chosen verbiage."

"Parisology, word play, is a fantastic tool Harry," Black enthused. "With it you can talk yourself into or out of most any situation and have the rest of the world spinning like a top trying to keep up with you. Confuse them mid-sentence, change their opinions in a single conversation, lure them to your side for a coming confrontation or use them as a footstool to get over your next obstacle. Willing might I add, before you foist in issues with the morality of the situation at us."

"What? No who cares about that?" Harry was dizzy with the possibilities. Ways to get out of detentions, get extensions on his homework, worm his way into the forbidden section and get Hermione to take notes for him in History of Magic danced across his mind. If he had known how to use this properly before now he'd have had a much better time of it at the Dursleys. Or any time he'd met the Slytherins in a hallway for that matter. The thought of using this against Malfoy pushed a grin onto his face. He could even have an entire conversation with the blonde in front of the other Gryffindors and on one would even know what the Hell they were talking about!

"Is it using this against family members acceptable?"

"Who did you have in mind?" Asked Walburga. She looked incredibly pleased with Harry's enthusiasm.

"Draco." Harry admitted.

"Ah, well, I should probably mention that family we spoke about earlier was in fact the Malfoys. Lucius married my cousin Narcissa. So if you really want to get one over on a Malfoy you're going to have to get creative, they're all theomaniacs for a reason you know. It would be easier if he didn't already know you well, we'd have the unknown on our side."

Walburga cleared her throat. "About that, I had a _thought_." She paused, rearranging her skirts. "Wouldn't it do more for his education if her were able to experience it from a proper point of view? There isn't much we can do about his current image immediately. He will have to work in acceptable changes and triggers for these changes and a time-line of transition in order to change his more well known persona into one he actually wants to live with rather than the one he fell into on accident. Perhaps there is a way he could both arrange a more visible path as 'Harry' and be freed to make bigger, better choices within another persona? One where, perhaps, he could make moves he wouldn't get away with in his other?"

Harry had no idea what was going, something which happened often since he'd arrived, but Black apparently did; he was laughing merrily. The portraits on the far wall looked equally thrilled, whispering amongst one another, flitting to and fro from their frames rapidly.

"This," his godfather said once he'd gotten a hold of himself, "Is going to be the best prank I've ever played."

Walburga lifted her chin primly. "Indeed."

* * *

 **~~Pseudonymous Entity~~**

 **2015**

* * *

 **NOTES:** Ta-freaking-dah. I love your faces!

Any guesses or conspiracy theories yet?


	5. Lies, Lies and more Lies

**PSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEU**

* * *

 **~~* Getting Away with Murder *~~**

* * *

 **Summary:** What do you think would change if Harry met Black a little sooner? If Black was more focused on Harry and keeping him safe? A lot of things apparently.

 **Characters:** Harry Potter, Sirius Black, [the Black family], more later on

 **Warnings:** Purebloods. Violence. Plotting. **[Am I alone in viewing Purebloods as a warning? It certainly ought to be one.]**

 **Comments, Questions, Guesses, Conspiracy Theories?** Put them in your review. I do my best to reply!

 **AN:** Here's the next chap. I know you were pounding me with PMs asking me to update quicker but this was as quick as I could get it done, sorry. :( I am trying to get them out to you sooner rather than later, please keep in mind I have other stories to update as well and I try not to show too much favouritism over which gets updated first. There's several Rivalry updates coming soon as well as one for Adventures and one for Wicked. Editing next chap for CYHMN so keep on the look out if you read those as well. -pseu

 **ANx2:** And do keep up the theories guys I love seeing inside your minds. Please feel free to make guesses and ask questions. I try to find the time to reply to you guys as often as I can and I enjoy interacting with my readers. I do, by the way, have the best fans ever. -Pseu

 **ANx3** : Special shout out to Chocalatbandit who begged for a hint. Red Revolutionary who wishes to learn to insult people subtly. NikiSpade, yes YOUR face **O.O**.

-pseu

 **Ever Yours, Pseu** [ **Master of Awesome** ] And ridiculously good-looking too.

* * *

 _We're all getting by telling lies, telling lies -_ _Everyone we love is telling lies, telling lies_

 _Words are mostly meaningless, the only truth there really is..._

 _We don't really mind telling lies, telling lies_

 _Maybe thats why, I never felt like I, could trust any friend of mine_

 _Everyone alive, telling lies_

 _Everyone we love is telling lies, telling lies -_ _Everyone we know is telling lies, telling lies_

 _Maybe that is why, I can justify, the way I live my life_

 _Telling lies_

* * *

When Black and Auntie Walburga were finished whispering with one another, plotting, his Godfather threw himself into the cough beside Harry, turning sideways and folding his legs under himself. It was a turn from the back forth of the Lord and the lazy dark pureblood acts he normally assumed. He sat just like Harry looking more like a teenager than an adult. Harry liked him immensely.

"Er, okay, so we've got an idea but before we discuss it we need to see if it's viable yeah? So I'm gonna explain a bunch of our family manipulation nonsense to you and see how well you follow along and what you feel about it. If it makes sense to you and you think you could give it a try and we'll go from there. How's that sound? Can you listen and then tell me what you think? I don't want you to feel rushed or pushed, this is all about you. I know we're excited, it's hard not to be, but you're the whole reason any of this is happening. Your thoughts matter, yeah?"

Harry pushed down the pleased feeling ballooning inside his chest. He nodded to avoid saying anything ridiculous, like how much he absolutely loved it here or begging them not to send him back.

Black leaned in conspiratorially. "I have to act like a Lord now or mum'll find a way to hex me."

Harry grinned. "Don't let me stop you."

The older wizard winked and sat back. "The key to getting what you what from someone is getting them to think they want to give it to you rather than you asking for it. The easiest way to do this is to get the person to like you. Here's a secret. First impressions can be very important however if someone doesn't quite like you at first, or doesn't know what to make of you, on first impression and _then_ begins to like you bit by bit through your interactions they are likely to like you _far more_ than they would if you they had a liking to you straight off. Most especially if you reinforce the idea that you have certain things in common that they would find surprising based on the persona you give off. You might let them know little bits of information about yourself that you imply you mightn't have told someone else which gives _the idea_ you somehow came to the conclusion this person is either trustworthy or someone who can relate. This bolsters self esteem in the person receiving the interaction. Everyone likes to feel important, special and liked, you're giving them all three. Why shouldn't they like you?"

Harry frowned. "That's a bit general isn't it? I have a lot in common with _Draco_ , he even tried to befriend me and impress me before he knew who I was, and I still think he's a spoiled git. Of course, I didn't make the best impression on him after he did know who I was and introduced himself...but that was an accident and he _was_ being idiotic at the time."

"You could probably get _him_ to like _you_ though, couldn't you? If you tried? Because you know him. That's the key; pay attention to your mark. To the people they choose to speak to, the people they avoid, the topics that catch their interest. Combine this with research of their family, their past interactions with others and their history. Since you have not had a lot of actual interaction with this hypothetical person your seeming 'kindred' traits will come across as genuine. If you can find things you really do relate to, use them. Take those feelings and situations and use them to fuel your interactions with this person. If you cannot relate then create a persona specifically for interactions with this person. _Become_ the person you need to be to get what you want from them. This requires a large amount of observation and quick, organized access to memorized information on your part, you won't be proficient straight away but with practice it will come to you as easily as breathing. You will switch and alter personas without having to think much about it at all and your speech patterns and mannerisms, even the _vocabulary_ you choose and your posture will rebuild its self around it without much conscious input." Black paused and raised a brow as if to ask if all of his gibberish was making any sense. When Harry gave an affirmative he continued.

"Now, it isn't about getting this person to like you. You're gonna get them to like you all on their own, by seeming to like _them_. It's all about how you make the person feel. Do you make them feel important or pretty or respected or clever where normally they might not? Mimic them. Notice which hand gestures they use frequently or how they tend to stand and adopt something similar. If they tend to speak slow, slow down your own speech from it normally it is. Doing this gives the appearance of a kindred spirit, it creates trust where none is deserved and establishes a relationship in this person's mind. You haven't done anything but speak with them and appear similar and now they are quite taken with you. Take it a step further and subtly defend them or back them in a conversation with someone who does not like them. That's all it takes and this person will feel defensive toward you. You become a 'cause'. They'll defend your reputation in your absence and tell others of your admirable traits. Others in turn will be inclined to like you as someone who inspires such _loyalty_ in others."

Harry smiled. "For instance, if you'd like a raise or a promotion you might invite someone over for dinner at your home with your families, after innocently happening to meet them at a business event, and spend the evening talking about things you know they have an interest in and making jokes you know they would find funny. You might put up pictures or magazines with things they have an interest in or put out something you know they collect. Let them do most of the talking, keep them engaged and repeat back things they've said to show you're listening. Making yourself seem human and relate-able and likable. Thus when your name comes up they'll feel obligated to put in a good word for you. It doesn't matter if you're a good person or the best person for the job, what matters is how that person feels about you, that that they feel inclined to help you out and so things for you."

Black stared. "Mum, I think we can do plan B. This kid's a natural."

Harry didn't bother explaining he'd grown up seeing this sort of thing all his life at the Dursleys. He understood it well.

"Is that so?" Called Walburga. The other portraits around her whispered excitedly.

Plotting and conspiracy was a family affair within the House of Black, or so Harry was coming to believe. It was sort of refreshing how honest they were about their duplicity. They wren't trying to present themselves as perfect to impress him, they were being themselves and trusting him with the information. He was _never_ telling Hermione about any of this.

"What is plan B? Or even A for that matter."

"Here's the thing," Black sprawled a leg over the top of the couch and leaned forward on his hands. "as Harry Potter you've already had a lot about yourself established, knowingly or not, in the time you've been in the wizarding world. While you can certainly change as you were much younger at the time, due to the reason of your notoriety and your house you will be limited in how openly you can make these changes. People will have _specific_ expectations of your behavior and ideals that you will have to somewhat appease, or at least appear to do so, in order to keep them from focusing on your actions more than you want them to. If you were able to present yourself with a clean slate you can get away with _virtually_ anything. No one would know what is or isn't normal for you or even be able to guess what your motivations may be. Some would make assumptions certainly but a blank slate is always the best place to come at this from."

"Alright, so how does the-boy-who-lived get a clean slate?" He asked when nothing else seemed to be forth coming.

"He doesn't. Not wearing the boy-who-lived's face anyway."

Harry blinked. "Right, so I have a question. _Whaaa_?"

"The point I'm trying to make," said Black with only the hint of a smirk, "is that you have to choose whether or not you want to be Harry Potter. The public figure. Or whether you want to be a, soon to be, thirteen year old wizard from the House of Black. The allowances you get in life and your control over it as well as our ability to help you changes depending on who you are. We're your family either way Harry, it's just how we are going to go about this that is effected. Blood is blood no matter what."

He opened his mouth, couldn't think of anything to say and closed it. What do you say to that? He thought he understood where they were going with this even if he wasn't sure how on earth they'd pull it off. He was still stuck on the fact they were asking him to be a complete member of their family, a Harry Black, in essence, rather than a Potter. That anyone, for whatever reason, would want _him_ to take their family name was...well he didn't know what it was. Not something he'd ever imagined happening. He fantasized that the Weasleys might but they couldn't afford the kids they had. He winced when he realized he was paraphrasing Malfoy. He meant it in a better light.

"Whose kid is he going to be?" Both Harry and Black turned to see who spoke. Standing at the entrance to the room stood a wizard who looked just like Black, though perhaps a bit smaller. "If he chooses to be a Black, and he will, whose kid will he be, mine or yours?"

Lord Black swallowed, sitting up straighter. After a moment he said. "I thought you were dead." His voice was steady, relaxed, as if discovering family members, for there was no doubt in Harry's mind the two were related, aren't as dead as you believe them to be was an everyday occurrence. Like it raining instead of snowing or being a Tuesday when you were sure it was Thursday.

The other Black leaned against the doorway and crossed his arms. "So did the aurors. I thought _you_ were in prison."

His godfather's lips twitched. "So did the aurors."

It was quiet. The portraits weren't gossiping, no one moved. Auntie Walburga did not look surprised though she did look slightly apprehensive. The two men in the room stared one another down while making no attempt to come any closer to the other. The lone Gryffindor waited for someone to elaborate. When no one did he slowly raised his hand.

"I have another question."

* * *

 **Pseudonymous Entity**

 **2015**

* * *

NOTES:

 ** _Guesses? Theories? Questions?_ ** Give me them all!

Don't worry, those who have questions about the pace or why certain characters are acting the way they are. There's a reason for everything. Right now you only know what Harry's know or assumes, but if you pay close attention you might understand some things before Harry does. I leave some hints here there.

Anyone think they know where this is going?

Ever Yours -Pseu **[The modestly clever]**


	6. Reunions, Warnings and the Not-Dead

**PSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEUPSEU**

* * *

 **~~* Getting Away with Murder *~~**

* * *

 **Summary:** What do you think would change if Harry met Black a little sooner? If Black was more focused on Harry and keeping him safe? A lot of things apparently.

 **Characters:** Harry Potter, Sirius Black, [the Black family], more later on

 **Warnings:** Purebloods. Violence. Plotting. **[Am I alone in viewing Purebloods as a warning? It certainly ought to be one.]**

 **Comments, Questions, Guesses, Conspiracy Theories?** Put them in your review. I do my best to reply!

 **AN:** Here's the next chap. Adventures and Black will have more updates soon as well. I'm on an Adventure kick right so I'm rolling with it while the muse lasts. I do hope you lot haven't forgotten this story while my attentions have been elsewhere. Worry not, I'd never abandon a fic. At most I'd rewrite it. **-Pseu**

 **ANx2:** And do keep up the theories guys I love seeing inside your minds. Please feel free to make guesses and  ask questions. I try to find the time to reply to you guys as often as I can and I enjoy interacting with my readers. I do, by the way, have the best fans ever. **-Pseu**

 **Ever Yours, Pseu** [ **Master of Awesome** ] And ridiculously good-looking too.

* * *

 _"The animals that play with the most abandon_

 _are the predators."_

-Cooper

* * *

"Father? I heard you knock on the lab door an-"

Another man, looking similar to Harry's godfather and the Not-Sirius strolled in. While Not-Sirius had narrower shoulders than his Godfather this Black wasn't as tall as either man and was slenderer in build as well. He stopped beside Not-Sirius and surveyed the room. Gray eyes rolled lazily to the taller man beside him. "When were you going to tell me we had company?" He asked in a whispery sort of voice.

Not-Sirius, the littler Black's father Harry assumed, made a vague motion at the room. "Look. There's company."

"Well," said smallest Not-Sirius, "that's what I get for leaving the lab." He turned to vacate the room as if the entire thing bored him. As he did his eyes met and locked on Harry. As his hand was in the air waiting patiently for somebody, anybody to tell him what the Hell was going on, the man understandably raised a brow at his odd posture. "Am I interrupting a class of some kind?" He asked.

Beside him Lord Black tensed. "We were-"

"No. Not you." Said smallest Black, putting up a finger and waggling it slowly. "Him." He did not point at Harry but Harry knew it was him who was being asked. The man's gray eyes never left his own.

"Actually...you're interrupting plotting of some kind." Answered Harry honestly. "Though I can't tell you what exactly as you've come in just as I thought I might finally understand it myself. Thanks for that."

His Godfather's posture stiffened and then relaxed when the smallest Black did not get insulted. Rather his lips curled upward. It wasn't a large smile but it was enough of one to see that it was there. "Well now." Smallest Not-Sirius said in that same soft voice. "I do apologize."

In the next moment the man was standing before Harry, long fingers on the sides of his face, quite close. Harry was vaguely aware of his Godfather standing and setting a wand at the mans neck. The smallest Black did not seem phased by this fact. Indeed he did not seem to register Sirius at all. His eyes were roaming Harry's face, fingers following and a warmth following after them. His face grew quite hot and then quite cold. The man's fingers relaxed, his hands left but for two fingers on Harry's chin.

"Why is the child bruised?" He asked. "And why did no one think to do something about it?" Again his voice soft and light. Harry was beginning to think the sweeter this man's voice became the more dangerous he became. Being as near to him as he was Harry found that revelation alarming.

When no one answered immediately the smallest Black lifted the hand not attached to Harry's chin and pointed at Sirius. "We should have a talk."

"I hate having talks with you." Black complained. How he managed to sound like a teenager while simultaneously holding a wand at a man's throat and looking very dangerous doing so was beyond Harry. He did hope it would be in one of his lessons. To the right and behind the smallest Black Harry could see Not-Sirius holding his one wand trained on the smallest Black though he seemed unaffected otherwise. Smallest Black tilted his head just a bit, enough to see Harry's godfather from his peripheral vision.

"And why is that?"

"Because," Called out one of the portraits, "he tends to walk away with a significant dive to his self-esteem."

"No one asked you." Black snapped. The portrait, a witch with green eyes who must have died quite young, only smiled. Harry didn't suppose there was much left for her to be afraid of. She opened her mouth to say something else and Black cut her off. "Not one more word out of you or I shall-"

"What, kill her again?" Not-Sirius snarked, coming to stand closer to the trio.

Black snorted. "Right. Reggie if you'd be so kind as to remove yourself from my Godson's face I'm sure he'd appreciate it-"

"What he may appreciate more is the two of you keeping your plotting to yourselves for just a moment and taking the time to heal him up, give him a bath and some clothes that fit and explain to him just who you are and what you want with him. However you and mother obviously felt that getting straight to business was the way to go." Reggie tsked, "All that etiquette training to waste. And you mother being a poor influence already?"

Aunt Wallburga patted down her skirts. "It isn't my fault you never leave your experiments until you're half starved and must. If you paid more attention perhaps you'd know when we have guests."

"Oh I could smell breakfast I just hadn't realized-"

"Enough." Not-Sirius cut in. "Lets fetch the lad some clothing and finish business as you've already started it. Without me." He added the past bit in a lower voice.

"Didn't know you were alive dad." Sirius reminded.

He ignored him. "Get on with it then."

Harry's godfather stared hard at Reggie. "You'll have to unhand him in order for me to dress him."

"Oh no. He's far too small to fit into any of your clothes. I'll dress him." With that the smallest Black grasped Harry by the hand and hauled him out of the room. Harry could hear his godfather protesting in the background. It faded quickly, finding themselves on the third floor far quicker than they ought to have gotten there. Ironically, the door just across from Harry's belonged to Reggie.

The smallest Black -uncle? cousin?- flitted across the room to and fro gathering clothing and placing it on a low table near a bookshelf. Harry took a moment to study the man. He was much younger than either of the other two Blacks. He was paler as well and rather thin. Perhaps a foot taller than Harry. His hair was long than his godfather's with more curls than his father's. What stood out the most however was how quickly he moved without appearing to be a in a hurry. He was just...quick.

"There. That should do it." Gray eyes pinned him in place. "We'll need to get you clean first I think."

Harry was tugged about the wrist again to a door just to the left of the one they used to enter the room. He was startled when the man -young man?- began removing Harry's clothing as he manhandled him toward a very large shower. He gave one half-hearted sound of protest. In vain. In only his pants the water shot out of the faucet and sprayed down on him. Harry coughed and ducked his head out of the way.

"I can bathe myself." He muttered, sullen.

Reggie paused with a bar of soap in one of his hands. "But this is such a good opportunity to get to know one another better." Harry's cheeks flushed. He spluttered an attempt at a response. Reggie's lips curled upward again. He tossed the soap at him. Harry managed to catch only with the grace of his Seeker's reflexes. Realizing the guy was teasing him Harry huffed and turned away. He thought he heard a soft laugh behind him.

After another minute he huffed again and called over his shoulder. "Are you just going to stand there and watch me?"

"I'm bored."

Harry scowled. "How is it I'm in a house with three adults and I still feel like I'm surrounded by children?" He almost dropped his bar of soap when Reggie laughed. If one could call it that. A low sort of rumble. Harry turned to see the youngest of the Black sitting on the counter with one leg pulled up and bent beside him, resting his chin on it. The sharp teeth Harry could clearly see for just a minute quickly became more interesting.

"Are you..." Harry trailed off.

"I'm only nineteen. I'm allowed to be childish I should think." Reggie interrupted.

Harry stared. "That doesn't make sense. I would have met you at Hogwarts if you're only nineteen. You would have, what, been a sixth or seventh year when I was a first year? I would have remembered seeing you."

Reggie cocked his head the other way. "How did you get those bruises?" He asked.

Thrown for a minute at the topic change Harry said, "My uncle doesn't like me much. Or at all."

"And my brother swept in to rescue you did he?"

"Pretty much." Harry allowed.

Reggie dropped from the counter, holding up a towel. Walking closer the older boy once again showed no sense of personal boundaries, drying off Harry's hair without a by-your-leave. "It's a bit overwhelming, isn't it? They're offering family, a home, protection. In return you get to walk away from your old life." Reggie pulled Harry out from the shower shutting the water off. "That's what Hogwarts must have seemed like at first as well. How did that turn out?"

"Not how I thought it would." Said Harry. The towel on his head moved revealing grays looking down at him.

"You need to think about what it is you want before you listen to anything else those two, or even my father, have to say. Everything they do is designed to get you to agree with them. It's mostly subconscious at this point. You'll need to ignore their words and how they make you feel and focus on yourself. What's best for you? What sort of life to you wish to lead? Remember your hopes and dreams and ambitions. It's your life you know. You should think about it a bit before you make a deal with the devil. Or devils in this case."

Harry reached up and stopped the towel which had started moving again. "Why do you care?"

Reggie pulled the towel around Harry's body and lead him back into the bedroom. "You are not the only one who's been swept up in the promises of others. Others able to give you everything you think you want. It is easy to say yes. To agree to anything they want as long as you think you're getting a good deal." He shoved him into a chair and tossed some clothes at him.

"Speaking from experience, tread lightly. Some decisions can't be taken back."

Harry focused his gaze on the clothes in lap. It seemed he was destined to have more questions that answers. "I could go back. I just don't want to-"

"No you can't." Said Reggie. "You're not going back. They won't make you and I won't let you. You'll be safe here. I just don't want you to think your being here has anything to do with you accepting their little plots."

"You won't let me?" Harry asked through his tunic. He pulled it down and looked up at Reggie.

"I saw." Said Reggie.

It occurred to Harry then that Reggie was the only person other than himself to see Harry without a shirt on. To see the remnants of his family's caring. He'd been so caught up in the oddness that was the other boy he hadn't even thought about it. He examined the floor, embarrassed. Almost immediately he felt two chilly fingers on his chin lifting his head.

"Do you want to know what advantage the broken have over the unblemished?"

Harry nodded.

"The broken can put themselves together however they wish and they do not have to be who they were before. They can't be. What they can do is learn from their scars, from their missing pieces and continuously build a better version of themselves. Something unblemished can never do. they can never be anything but what they were at the start. Learn to welcome the cuts, the cracks. It's a chance to strengthen a part of yourself that was weak." Reggie brushed the hair from Harry's face. "What we must do is remember whom is responsible for our jagged edges and vow to never allow ourselves to be broken in such a way again. Sharp edges make for good weapons."

Reggie's eyes glittered, his pointed teeth showing through the widest smile Harry'd seen on him.

"It is all a matter of perspective really."

* * *

 **Pseudonymous Entity**

 **2016**

* * *

 **NOTES:**

Thoughts? Guesses? Questions? Theories? Limericks?


End file.
